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time. So my dear, I suggest a bet."
      Her wine
glass, which she had just picked up, hit the table with a thump. The contents
spilled over the edge, and a red stain spread over the cloth. She looked at it
in dismay.
    Brook laughed. "I had not thought such a
simple comment would elicit such a response. Now my dear," he said, and
all her senses went onto high alert. He stood and walked around the table to
her. "If as I assume, you have finished your meal, are you ready to go
further?"
    What could she answer? There was nothing else to
say other than in the affirmative.
    "Yes, my lord."
    He had to smile secretly at that. Did she know
what she had said?
    "So, your brother had wagered you. He gave
you to me. I...." He paused. "Catherine, if I cannot have you with
your blessing I will not have you at all. Therefore let us try this…A
wager."
    A coal in the grate split and he jumped at the
sound. Why did she not answer? At last, just as he was about to break into
hurried speech, she spoke.
    "Which is?"
    How could he answer and not scare her?
    "I propose we dice. I have an offer to put
to you."
    She stared at him and his skin prickled as if a
family of   spiders crawled over it. What was it about this woman that enthralled him so?
    "Wager?" She asked him. Her eyes sent sparks of hot
desire into him, and he gulped. "And what," she continued, "are
we wagering?"
    That annoyed him. Had he not made himself clear?
    "My dear," he drawled in his best
aristocratic tone. "Surely you realize? Once more the wager is you."
     
     

 
    Chapter Seven
     
    Damn . Catherine had hoped he had decided to forego
that. She sighed. It seemed not.
    "How?" she asked baldy. Why did he
have to be so cryptic? She may be the wager but what did that mean? Surely once
wagered she could not be turned over and become the prize once more? Was she
brave enough to ask? One glance at his face, which dared her to question him, made
her decide. He thought she would not; therefore query him she would.
    "Please explain my lord, lest I be
uncertain of what you mean." The expression of despair on his face was
worth every worry she had.
    Brook looked her over so slowly she was hard
pressed not to squirm. It was such a scrutiny, that even innocent people would
admit to the most heinous of crimes to change his demeanor.
    "We wager for you. We play three games of
dice. Winner takes all, no side bets nothing less than
that," Brook said. "We play tonight, and do not stop until one is the
victor. Otherwise you are mine. I think you will be after we dice, but I am
happy to let chance decide. What say you?"
    If she hadn't still felt her heartbeat, and
heard it noisy in her ear, and seen the pulse beating staccato in her wrist,
Catherine would have wondered if she was dreaming. Had he really intimated it
was now or nothing? She dare not ask, as one answer excited her and the other
scared her. She realized he was waiting for her reply.
    "So, if I do not agree to the wager you
will make me follow through on the original bet?"
    "That is the essence of it, yes."
    However if I agree to dice with you, and I win
it, is over? You say the bet is settled and walk away?" He nodded. Why did
that answer not please her? Did he want her so little? Her heart sank, and what
little hope she had cherished faded away. She was but a means of revenge, a
commodity to use. "And if you win, I am yours?" Again he nodded. In
spite of herself her body warmed with the thoughts of just what that might
mean. "In what way, my lord? I wish to be sure
what I am wagering."
    "However I chose," he said starkly.
"Well?"
    Catherine gathered her composure, and willed her
hands not to shake.   Why in such an
exquisite room, perfumed with the scents from the bowl of spring flowers on a
side table, did it sound so sordid? Nevertheless there was only one answer she
could give him.
    "Yes, my lord, I agree."
    "Ha, if only you had always been so
biddable. Well then, let us adjourn to the study." Without waiting for